Setting Fire To The Rain
by RumpelstiltskinDearie
Summary: A low hum filled the air. At first, he took it for a sound of satisfaction. But then he felt a strange tugging sensation within his very being. A feeling of something deep inside of him being pulled away.


**Setting Fire To The Rain  
by Gwin Gold**

-X-X-X-

**Author's Note: **This isn't based off of any particular scenes in the movie or the books; it kind of relates to when Farid was killed in the second book, but nothing else is similar to the books or the movie, and it frankly doesn't make much sense. It's just a one-shot I had to get down.  
Plus, I was very, very annoyed that I can't find many Inkheart fanfictions that aren't Dustfinger/Meggie pairings, or Dustfinger/Farid slash! Seriously, people! Quit turning a wonderful book series into something inappropriate!  
Also, about the title: I've only listened to Adele's song, "Setting Fire To The Rain" once. I honestly had no intention of making this match up to it; I just liked the title. 'Kay? No flaming.  
Enjoy! Read and review, please? *kitten eyes* *puppy eyes* *Rumpelstiltskin eyes*  . /tumblr_m6rw91uEfT1rp88qyo1_ 

-X-X-X-

Agonized screams and groans filled the air. Dustfinger stood back, staring at the devastation and death. This was not how it was supposed to happen! The plans he and the Black Prince had so carefully set up were falling apart.

So many were dead. Nearly all of the Black Prince's men were seriously wounded or dead; his bear was as well.

Night had fallen, but torches and bonfires blazed.

Dustfinger stumbled forward. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to turn and flee into the shadows, but he couldn't.

Farid. Farid was still out there. Dustfinger had seen him fighting somewhere in the trees...

Dustfinger crept along the path, rain pounding down on him. The few men still battling ignored him; after all, he was no more important than a beaten dog slinking away. That was all they had ever thought of him.

Onwards Dustfinger went. In the forest, it grew darker, and he was unable to see clearly. He called up a flame, and it danced across his fingertips, shedding a pale glow on the path in front of him.

Voices attracted his attention, and he swiveled to look in the direction they had come from. One husky but young, heavily-accented voice was unmistakable-Farid.

Dustfinger spun around and launched himself into the undergrowth, heedless of the thorns and branches that tore at him. He dared not cry out.

He finally broke through into a clearing. And then his heart stopped.

Basta-that sneaking, heartless dog-was standing above Farid's lifeless body, a knife in hand and a sneer on his face.

Dustfinger tried to shout out, but only managed a short, strangled sound. Basta couldn't hear it over the rushing of the rain, and simply turned and left.

Dustfinger numbly staggered into the clearing and dropped to his knees beside Farid. The boy was motionless, his eyes closed.

"Farid..." Dustfinger choked out. "Farid... wake up, Farid. Wake up."

There was no sign of life. No flutter of the eyelids, no twitch of the finger, no rise nor fall of the chest.

A sob escaped Dustfinger's throat before he could keep it back. Then the tears came, and he wept over Farid. His friend, his companion... was dead.

Lost in his grief, Dustfinger didn't hear the voices until several minutes had passed. "Dustfinger... Dustfinger..." they whispered.

He looked up, blond locks of his hair plastered to his forehead. "Wh-what... who..." He could see no one, no darker patches of shadow in the night to indicate that anyone was there.

"Do not search for us, for you look in vain. You cannot see us." The voices spoke in unison, creating a rippling effect, a chorus of murmurs.

"What do you want?" Dustfinger asked, his breathing ragged.

"You do not know it, but your heart called us here," the voices answered.

"What do you want?" Dustfinger repeated, unable to wrap his mind around what was happening.

"No, it is what _you _want that brings us here," the voices chorused.

Dustfinger stared blankly into the darkness, completely bewildered and frankly hurting too much to care about what was going on.

"You want your friend back. You want this war to end."

Dustfinger was silent for several moments before responding, "Yes. M-more than anything." And it was true. He wanted his friends, the Black Prince and his men (what little were left of them) to be safe, and for the battle to end.

"We can do that." The voices were everywhere at once, from above and below, to the left and the right.

Dustfinger felt a surge of hope. "You... you can?"

"For a price. Are you willing to pay it?"

The hope faded, replaced with fear. What if the mysterious voices asked for his own life in return? Or worse-what if they asked for Roxane or Brianna?

Again, the voices asked, "Are you willing to pay it?"

"What is the price?" Dustfinger figured it was worth questioning. Perhaps he would get an answer.

"Your fire."

"My-my fire?" Dustfinger was dumbfounded.

"The magic you use to speak with fire. If you agree to give it to us, you will never have the ability to call the flames again, but we will set the sky ablaze."

For a moment, Dustfinger felt weak to his stomach. He used his ability to talk with fire for so many things-for light, for protection...

But... Farid. The Black Prince.

Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, he nodded. "I will pay."

A low hum filled the air. At first, he took it for a sound of satisfaction. But then he felt a strange tugging sensation within his very being. A feeling of something deep inside of him being pulled away.

Dustfinger instinctively clutched his chest with his hands, feeling almost as though he was being suffocated.

Then the voices spoke again. "It is finished."

Dustfinger suddenly felt Farid's body arch, and then he was breathing again. Dustfinger looked down, and then gently helped the boy to his feet.

Then he stood up and turned in circles, looking around. The sounds of battle still drifted across the forest.

Somehow, deep down, he sensed that the mysterious voices were gone. He began to wonder if they had been unable to end the war.

Farid was saying something, but Dustfinger was too distracted.

And then his words broke into Dustfinger's daze. "Dustfinger! Dustfinger! Look!"

Dustfinger glanced at him. The boy was gazing up into the sky, so Dustfinger turned his eyes upwards.

Bright pinpoints of light shined ahead. They got closer...

And the rain turned to fire. Tongues of flame blazed down to the ground, all around him. Yellow, orange, and red streaks flashed down and all around, almost as though engaged in a strange dance. They spoke with the voices of embers, of sparks, of roaring flames.

Yet... they did not burn Dustfinger's skin, nor Farid's. The forest was safe as well.

Judging from the terrified shouts sounding from across the woodland, the Adderhead's men were being frightened away. And triumphant shouts came from the remaining men of the Black Prince's. He could hear someone, particularly close, yell, "It's Dustfinger! It has to be!"

Dustfinger watched the fiery spectacle, eyes wide with wonder. Whoever-or whatever-had taken his power had fulfilled their promise. They were ending the battle. They had set the sky ablaze.

They were setting fire to the rain.


End file.
